Tuesday, 13 August 2013

A little over a month ago I bade farewell to Thunderbeast!, my 1996 Ford Thunderbird. I knew it wouldn't handle the pace of 1000 kilometres a week forever, but I had hoped for 52 more weeks, plus or minus.

Truth is I could have put another couple of hundred bucks into it, after all it had been at least a month since the last repair, and again a month since the one before it.

Truth is, my ego aside, I owe it to my employer to drive a reliable vehicle that gets me to work on time.

And now the fuel economy of my Honda Civic is paying for the bi-weekly payments of ownership. I am no more money out of pocket weekly than I was when I drove a gas thirsty beater. Now I have air conditioning that works, a door that closes and windows that open.

Monday, 12 August 2013

I just returned from a conference in Atlanta, during which time I stayed in a nice hotel that had a small cafe that served a pretty decent breakfast every day. Since the trend of starving conference attendees seems to be in full upswing this summer, I ate breakfast there every morning. It was pretty decent.

The first two mornings I noticed the food was good, and the service was good. The music was techno-bamboo (my term, you won't find that as an option on iTunes) and that struck me as decidedly unbreakfasty (my word, you won't find that in the Mirriam-Webster). I think they just forgot to change the channel after the late night drinks crowd went up to their rooms.

On my final morning the presence of a manager was obvious. The energy level in the breakfast cafe was high, the smiles and greetings were genuine,and the overhead music had, get this, a beginning, middle and end. The manager was "hopping and bopping" around, a style of management my first boss demanded.

You can't overstate the value of a good manager. You may not even notice when he's not there, but you sure can tell the difference when he is.